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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27151673">More Than a Woman</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/alreadysomeone/pseuds/alreadysomeone'>alreadysomeone</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The West Wing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:42:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,411</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27151673</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/alreadysomeone/pseuds/alreadysomeone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh, the Bee Gees, some self-gratification, and some office sex…what more could you ask for.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Josh Lyman/Donna Moss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>More Than a Woman</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Spoilers:  The Crackpots and These Women, In The Shadow of Two Gunmen (I&amp;II), I guess pretty much anything is game actually.<br/>Originally written in 2002-ish? Originally posted as part of the July Challenge on the State of the Union list.  The song, “More Than a Woman,” belongs to the Bee Gees.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>New Canaan, Connecticut, 1977 – a flashback:</p>
<p>A group of preppy looking high school boys are hanging out in the basement of one of their large New Canaan homes.  The radio is playing music of the time, America, the Doobie Brothers, Blood Sweat &amp; Tears, but no disco is heard, and the guys are glad.</p>
<p>They’re drinking sodas and talking about the future and girls.  It’s mostly joking and boasting about sex and not getting trapped in dull marriages like their parents did.  One of the boys innocently wonders out loud how you know when you’ve met the right girl.</p>
<p>Young, witty, and of course, sarcastic from the start, Josh Lyman speaks up saying, “I’ll know I’ve found ‘the one’ when I spot her across the room and hear ‘More Than a Woman’ by the Bee Gees.  That’s how I’ll know.”</p>
<p>The other guys laugh at his proclamation and give him appreciative shoves and punches in the arm for his humor and wit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Washington, DC,  2001</p>
<p>I wake at 5 AM when my alarm begins to blare somewhere near my head.  Set for the same time every morning for as long as I can remember, I slowly start to come out of my dreamy haze as usual, but this morning, instead of Bob Edwards on NPR, the cacophony coming from the radio is “More Than a Woman” by the Bee Gees.</p>
<p>Something is wrong.  Something is very wrong.  This must be the work of a diabolical terrorist.  Or Toby.  Or the cleaning lady changed the station while she was here and didn’t change it back.<br/>Last time that happened, Sam caught me singing Britney Spears under my breath at the morning Senior Staff meeting.  What’s worse is, he started singing along.</p>
<p>I desperately try to shake the Bee Gees out of my head.  And as I groggily head towards the shower, I begin to remember the dream I was having just before my rude disco ball awakening.</p>
<p>I dream vividly every night; it’s been that way since I was a kid.  Kind of weird, I know, but I do.  </p>
<p>At times it’s been a blessing, and other times, it’s been a curse.  When Joanie died I stopped dreaming for a while, then I had nightmares; same thing after the shooting.  Then I stopped sleeping all together for a while.</p>
<p>But I’m happy to say that I am back to my regularly scheduled very vivid dreams.  And in spite of the terror of waking up to Barry, Robin, and Maurice Gibb, I’m quite chipper this morning due in no small part to a particularly sexy and eventful dream I had in the early morning hours.</p>
<p>The contents of this dream involved a certain person who shall remain nameless.  Oh hell, it was Donna.  I mean, even Sam ought to be able to figure that one out.  Although, he probably would need about 40 hints and some hand signals from CJ.</p>
<p>However, the erection that is now keeping me company in the shower is screaming Donna’s name loud and clear.  Okay, that was freaky and unnecessary imagery.</p>
<p>My sex dreams used to be about nameless and faceless women; even when I was with Mandy, most especially when I was with Mandy.  And they were as frequent as when I was a teenager.  But after Bartlet’s first year in office they went away.  Instead of dreaming about sex, I dreamed of holding hands, walking, and talking.  It was like I wanted more than just any random woman to have sex with.  Frankly though, it concerned me.</p>
<p>I thought maybe I was losing interest in sex all together or that I was turning gay – not that there’s anything wrong with that.  In fact, there are some really nice looking and quite successful men in DC, or so Sam tells me.  Come to think of it, Sam’s pretty successful and good looking himself.</p>
<p>Anyway, I prowled the DC bars a bit and picked up a couple of women.  Nothing ever actually happened with them, which worried me even more.  But I did start having sex dreams again.<br/>Only the women in them weren’t faceless or nameless.  In fact, from then on, it was always the same face and the same name, Donnatella Moss.</p>
<p>Freaked me out at first.  I mean, it’s one thing to have romantic dreams about holding hands and stuff, but in these new dreams I was mounting my assistant atop the four-drawer file cabinet in the bullpen.</p>
<p>Now and then CJ would appear and say, “Boy, are you stupid.”  And she’d give me pointers from the sidelines, not to mention safety lectures about falling.</p>
<p>CJ’s editorial comments aside, I’ve come to really enjoy these almost nightly rendezvous with my Dream Donna.  Although, I’m afraid that some morning at work I’ll slip up and grab her butt as she’s walking by me or something.</p>
<p>That would be bad.  I mean, I’m sure it would feel great – it does in my dreams: perfectly smooth, round, kind of firm, warm, and all for me – but she might not see it that way.</p>
<p>Truth is, I have no idea how she would see it.  Sometimes I think she wants something to happen between us.  Sometimes I think something IS starting to happen between us, whether we want it to or not.</p>
<p>Mostly I think that I am a man with no real sex life and dreaming about doing something physical with the woman I spend most of my waking hours with, who happens to be my assistant, makes perfect sense.  Except that in reality, I’m afraid it could only end badly.</p>
<p>At least I have my dreams.</p>
<p>As I squirt some shower gel into my hand and soap up my body, my dream starts to come back to me.</p>
<p>It was one of my Catholic school uniform dreams.  I love those. As any good Jewish boy would.</p>
<p>I pause only for a split second before putting more shower gel into the palm of my hand and lathering up the erection that never went away from my morning dream.</p>
<p>As I grip myself, moving my hand up and down, I imagine Donna doing this for me; showering with me and soaping me up, my hair, my chest, running her hands over my nipples.  She’d smile knowingly at my erection pressing into her side, waiting for her touch.</p>
<p>At this point I have to lean my forearm against the tile wall to keep my balance as I close my eyes and concentrate on how my hand feels on my erection.  I try as best I can to make believe that instead of gripping myself or Donna stroking me, that she’s decided to rinse me off and take me in her mouth.  My hand becomes her warm lips and agile tongue, working hard and fast, pushing me almost over the edge.</p>
<p>But I won’t let her finish me off that way.  I make her stand up so I can kiss her and press my erection towards the wetness between her legs; her wetness that I can distinguish from the shower water by the heat that it produces.  Her wetness that I can smell in the moist air of the shower as I slip two of my fingers inside her while she lifts a leg, resting it on the spigot, giving me better access.</p>
<p>In my mind’s eye I watch her tilt her head back as I slide my fingers in and out of her, pausing only for a moment to find her clit with my thumb, and when I lean in to kiss her as she climaxes.<br/>That image is more than I can take and with a couple more strokes, imagining the way she would pull me inside her, still tight from the tension of her orgasm, I’m coming.  Whispering her name, I surprise myself when I realize that it almost hurts how badly I want her.  How much my body aches for her.</p>
<p>I take just a couple of minutes to recover and finish showering before I have to get going or I’ll be late for Senior Staff and, god forbid, Leo will make another crack about my morning grooming habits.</p>
<p>My shower activities must have given me an energy boost, because I’m feeling down right peppy as I enter the West Wing.  But as I cross the Presidential Seal on the floor of the entrance, I hear the strangest thing.</p>
<p>I swear it’s the Bee Gees.  Nah, can’t be.  Once a day is bad enough, but twice in the space of an hour and a half is just out and out wrong.</p>
<p>As I get closer to the sound, I am sure my ears do not deceive me; it is definitely the high-pitched harmonies of the brothers Gibb.</p>
<p>*Oh girl I've know you very well<br/>I've seen you growing every day<br/>I never really looked before<br/>But now you take my breath away*</p>
<p>As I continue down the hallway, I am pretty sure the music is coming from my office.  Okay, now I’m getting mad, and pretty darn positive that my little theory about terrorists may not be so far off the mark.</p>
<p>I round the corner and see Donna across the bullpen.  Oh. My. God.</p>
<p>I am staring at Donna across the room and hearing “More Than a Woman” by the Bee Gees.</p>
<p>The only thing that keeps me from completely freaking out from my high school flashback is that Donna is singing.  It’s not a bad thing, though.  It’s kind of cute actually.  She is sorting through the morning faxes and singing “More Than a Woman,” which she has clearly cranked up on the CD player in my office.</p>
<p>*Suddenly you're in my life<br/>Part of everything I do<br/>You've got me working day and night<br/>Just trying to keep a hold on you*</p>
<p>She has no idea that I’m watching her.  She also has no idea that I feel like I’m being visited by the Ghost of Bee Gees Past, manifested in a flippant remark at age 17. My friends have teased me for years, to the point where they’ve sent emails with the just lyrics and a question mark at the end to find out if I’ve gotten married yet.</p>
<p>Funny though, right now, my old crooning buddies the Gibbs, have suddenly brought a sense of calm purpose over me.  I’m feeling quite clear-headed and very bold.</p>
<p>I take a deep breath, quietly drop my backpack to the floor, walk up behind Donna, put my arms around her, and I begin to sing along with her.</p>
<p>*Here in your arms I've found my paradise<br/>My only chance for happiness<br/>And if I lose you now I think I would die<br/>Oh say you'll always be my baby<br/>We can make it shine<br/>We can take forever<br/>Just a minute at a time*</p>
<p>She jerks away for just a second, but not too much.  Between song lines, she silently points at our reflection in glass that surrounds the bullpen and smiles; she knew I was watching her.  With a smile on her face that I can see in the reflecting glass, Donna leans back into me, pulls my arms tighter around her, and I whisper into her ear.</p>
<p>*More than a woman<br/>More than a woman to me, baby<br/>More than a woman -- more than a woman<br/>More than a woman to me*</p>
<p>She turns around and kisses me softly, backing us into my office as we continue to kiss.  She’s walking backwards, kissing me, and humming along with the Bee Gees -- wow, she really is more than a woman.</p>
<p>*There are stories old and true<br/>Of people so in love like you and me<br/>And I can see myself<br/>Let history repeat itself<br/>Reflecting how I feel for you<br/>Think about those people<br/>Then I know that in a thousand years<br/>I'd fall in love with you again*</p>
<p>Donna shuts my office door with her foot, and without breaking our kiss, she’s got my coat, my tie, and my shirt off in less than 30 seconds.  Did I mention that she’s more than a woman to me?<br/>I pull her closer, hiking up her skirt and grabbing her butt, which is as smooth and firm as I’d imagined.  Donna pushes her pelvis into my erection and we both moan a bit at the amazing feeling of years of sexual tension beginning to unravel.</p>
<p>In no time, we’re pretty close to naked and she’s cursing the lack of a couch in my office, mumbling something about how maybe she should have worked for Toby.</p>
<p>Not finding the thought of Donna and Toby on his couch arousing in the least, I waste no time in clearing off my desk, lifting her onto the flat surface, and climbing on top of her.</p>
<p>She’s so soft and wet and smooth and tight and…. so many things… when I enter her, I almost come before I’m fully inside.</p>
<p>*This is the only way that we should fly<br/>This is the only way to go<br/>And if I lose you now I think I would die<br/>Oh say you'll always be my baby<br/>We can make it shine<br/>We can take forever<br/>Just a minute at a time*</p>
<p>What keeps me from climaxing is a horrible sound coming from somewhere near my head.  The strains of the Bee Gees have been replaced by a man’s voice.  It sounds like NPR, and Bob Edwards is reporting on what Donna and I are doing on my desk.</p>
<p>“And in the nation’s capital, there is a report once again of sexual impropriety in some of the highest offices.”</p>
<p>Oh God.  I reluctantly turn away from Donna, or at least where Donna was in my dream, and I look at the clock:  5 AM.  Same time every morning.  This is going to be an awful day, the Bee Gees, dreams with in dreams, with in dreams, and another morning waking up alone after a sex dream about Donna.  I’ve got to stop eating those anchovy pizzas before bed.</p>
<p>As Bob Edwards continues, however, I think the day may get a bit better:  “An underage intern in the Republican Senate Majority Leader’s office has just revealed that she was involved in a two year relationship with the Majority Leader.  In entertainment news, the Bee Gees announced today their intentions to tour again.  The first stop on their tour will be right here in Washington, DC…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>END</p>
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